


The Thing About Solos Is...

by My_Barbaric_Yawp



Series: The Thing Is... [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Movie: Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Barbaric_Yawp/pseuds/My_Barbaric_Yawp
Summary: The odds are not good.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: The Thing Is... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580785
Comments: 10
Kudos: 91





	The Thing About Solos Is...

He's falling into the abyss. It should hurt more, probably. Palpatine hadn't exactly been gentle when he'd thrown him down this hole. But after years of torture and death and, yes, even supreme rule—which hadn't been a picnic even before Palpatine's transmission ripped through the very last of his reserves of calm—after all of that, this will be his end. A long drop into the void. The final fall of the Skywalkers.

"You're not a Skywalker, kid."

His father had said that once, right before they shipped him off to Luke for training. Poor little Ben had been heartbroken, and Snoke had loved that. Or was it Palpatine? Either way, he'd done his best to wipe out Ben's memory of what Han said next, and he'd succeeded for decades. Only now, as Ben falls through the long dark, those barriers between him and his family memories finally begin to flicker and fail.

"You're not a Skywalker, kid," his father had said, one hand on Ben's shoulder, one knee on the floor, bringing his warm eyes to the right level to meet Ben's. "Your mom's an Organa—that's royalty, kid—and your uncle's an idiot—Skywalkers usually are—but you and me, kid, we're Solos. We don't go in for stuff the way your mom and your uncle do. We hold back—we assess the situation—we do what's best for us. But when the chips are down—when the battle is almost lost—we're the ones that save everyone else's ass. Do you know why, kid?"

"Because you love Mom and Uncle Luke?"

"Well, yeah. But besides that?"

Ben had shrugged, at a loss.

"Because the only thing we love more than your mom and Luke—more than Chewie and ourselves, even—is saving the day, being the hero, and getting the girl. Very goal oriented, the Solos. Don't ever forget that, kid."

But he had. All those years with Snoke had broken him, finally. There were no goals, then, only pain and anger and one fragment of his father in his memory, constantly reminding him on repeat that he'd never be the Skywalker he longed to be. And, if he couldn't be a Skywalker, well… A Vader would have to be the next best thing.

More's coming back now. To young Ben Solo, the Falcon's best known angle was the rear, all lit up with the thrusters roaring. His father was always setting off for some far-flung system to have an adventure with Chewie until Leia's temper cooled down long enough for Han to re-enter her orbit without getting scorched. This time his mother stood beside Ben, watching the thrusters burn against the dim light of the fading dusk while the Falcon sped out of atmosphere.

"The thing about Solos—" His mother stopped. Bit her lip. Sighed and squeezed the back of Ben's neck—hand warm and steady. "The thing about Solos is you can't get rid of them. Not really."

"But Mom—"

"He'll be back, Ben. He always comes back. Come to bed now."

And his father had come back, at the end. A memory or a ghost or just a Solo, in it for the save and the girl and even his son, right to the last.

It's almost a comfort, as Ben finally hits the bottom with a blow that should kill him. It doesn't, though. No armour, no saber, no chance, and still, here he is, alive and conscious at the bottom of an abyss.

What a joke.

He rolls his head to the side—his neck doesn't even hurt beyond a dull ache at the back of his skull. It feels suspiciously like a hand cradling his neck tightly, protecting him from the impact.

"Thanks, Mom." It's a guess, but it shouldn't be. There's a squeeze again—pressure warm and steady against his hairline—and then it's gone.

Sitting provides a glimpse of further darkness below. He hasn't reached the bottom. The abyss goes on and on and on. He could roll over now and fall forever, deeper into the darkness. There's nothing to save, now, no hero to be, no girl to get—

Except.

Of course.

 _Rey_.

The thing about Solos is…

Ben sighs and turns from the void. The cliff face is steep. The handholds are non-existent. The odds are not good.

Never tell a Solo the odds.

The only way is up.


End file.
